


Spell

by Hekate1308



Series: The Crowley Chronicles [16]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fix-It, Gen, post season 12
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-20
Updated: 2017-10-20
Packaged: 2019-01-20 04:46:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12425301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hekate1308/pseuds/Hekate1308
Summary: The spell’s a gift from God.Chuck couldn’t show up, apparently, but he sent them a spell, one that’s not only supposed to get rid of the new-hatched Antichrist, but also bring back the dead “anew” although Dean has no idea what this means.Post 12x23, Cas and Crowley are brought back... but not in the way the boys expected.





	Spell

The spell’s a gift from God.

Literally.

Chuck couldn’t show up, apparently, but he sent them a spell, one that’s not only supposed to get rid of the new-hatched Antichrist, but also bring back the dead “anew” although Dean has no idea what this means.

He’s too blinded by grief to pay much attention to the wording anyway, and as it turns out, so is Sam.

They managed to cast the spell; Jack all but explodes (thank God, he was already loudly making plans for “Paradise” which clearly didn’t contain free will or anything similar) and when the lights die down –

Maybe we should have been paying more attention to the “anew” part is all Dean can think.

Because standing in front of them are two very confused-looking toddlers.

He has no problem figuring out who one of them — about five years old, he’d guess — is supposed to be. He’d recognize those eyes anywhere.

“Cas?” he asks slowly. It’s all the boy needs to jump forward and bury his head against Dean’s leg, sobbing uncontrollably.

“De – De – De – “

“Hey – hey – it’s alright now, Cas, okay? I’ve got you.” Dean reaches out and picks him up. The sobs slowly die down.

Sam, meanwhile, has kneeled down in front of the other kid.

“Hey. I’m Sam. What’s your name?”

The child, somewhat younger than Cas, probably about three, rolls his eyes, and for a second, there’s something familiar about him Dean can’t place, but then his lips starts to tremble and it seems they may have another tantrum on their hands.

Thankfully that’s when Cas decides to speak.

“Dee. Crowey.”

“Crow – what – “ It takes a moment for the penny to drop. Then Dean’s at Sam’s side, kneeling down as well, careful not to jostle Cas. “Crowley? That you?”

A miserable nod is all the answer he gets.

“Okay” he breathes. “Okay. Sam, would you please... take care of Crowley?”

His brother gives him an irritated look and Dean presses out through gritted teeth, “Cas doesn’t even speak properly. They’re kids, for God’s sake.”

Sam gives in and picks Crowley up, although the former king of Hell... is busy pouting. It’s going to be a long drive.

“Why didn’t the spell bring back Mom?” Sam eventually asks.

“Didn’t it say it returns the dead? She must have gotten away somehow” Dean answers, realizing he can’t help but feel a little grateful that she wasn’t returned as a toddler. That would be freaky even for them.

Cas and Crowley are pretty silent in the backseat; Dean has no idea how much they understand, but they seem to know who they are, and they know him and Sam, so he’ll take it.

“De?” Cas begins eventually.

“Yeah, buddy?”

“Can I stay?”

“Of course” he says. For him, it’s the most obvious thing in the world, but apparently Cas needs to be reassured. “We’ll take care of you, okay?”

“Thank you De,” Cas says happily. God he sounds so innocent.

Crowley, meanwhile, still keeps quiet. If there’s something Dean never would have expected it’s the (ex) demon being a silent kid. Dean knows all about those. He was one himself, after Mom burned.

Still, he doesn’t realize how bad it is until they arrive at the bunker.

“Sam, you take Cas?” he asks because he’s not going to inflict punishment on his brother for a spell gone bad, and Crowley always gravitated towards him anyway.

Sam nods and exits the vehicle.

Dean turns around to tell Crowley what he’s about to do, just in case he hasn’t realized where they are, and freezes.

Crowley has been crying. And not the open, loud sobs of a child wanting attention, no, he’s been crying in that silent, raw way children do when they already know no one cares, no one’s coming to help them, and all that’s left to do is weep.

Boy, does Dean know that feeling too.

“Crowley? I’m coming.”

He quickly gets out of the car and opens the backdoor.

“There, there” he says, feeling rather helpless; at least he always has tissues with him, and he unbuckles Crowley, reaching into his pocket. He quickly cleans up his face, trying to be as gentle as possible. “See? All better now.”

Crowley surprises him once again. He looks him in the eyes and says, somewhat clearer than Cas, “You’ll give me away.”

Dean’s taken aback. “What – “

“You don’t want me here. You’ll give me away.” He doesn’t look at Dean. “Cas thinks you’ll give him away too, but Cas is stupid.”

He sounds so much like Sam used to, at that age. Dean swallows. “Crowley, no one’s going to give you away.”

Crowley just shakes his head. “Of course you will. No one wants me around.”

Isn’t that the saddest thing he’s ever heard a three-year-old say. And he was the one Sam told “I wish I remembered Mom” when he was that age.

“Look, we won’t give you away, alright? Promise.”

Crowley looks skeptical. “Pinkie promise?”

And the child who was the king of Hell actually holds out his pinkie for Dean to shake.

Pinkie promise given, Crowley allows Dean to pick him up. Human and young as he is, his crying must have exhausted him, and he’s out against Dean’s shoulder as soon as he gets comfortable.

Sam and Cas are in the kitchen, his brother having made a PB&J sandwich for Cas.

“Dean?”

“He’s dead to the world. I’ll put him in my room ‘till we’ve cleared out one.”

Crowley looks so damn vulnerable in his bed and Dean gently pulls the covers over him.

“What happened?” Sam asks when he returns to the kitchen.

“Cried himself to sleep. Thinks we’ll just chuck him out on the streets.”

Sam shoots him a look.

“Dude, seriously? He’s a kid!”

“And he’s Crowley.”

“Yeah, and last thing I know, he killed himself so we could get away!”

Cas is munching his sandwich. “I get to stay too?”

“Of course,” Dean answers automatically, remembering Crowley’s words. It makes sense, in a way. Cas is by no means deficient, but Crowley is clever. Probably the most intelligent man Dean has ever met.

“So what? We open a daycare centre? Dean—”

“Sam, listen to me. We’ve lost enough, okay? And there has to be a way to turn them back. We’ll just have to look after them in the meantime.”

Sam looks sceptical.

“Don’t give me that look, I watched you too.”

His brother’s eyes soften. “That’s true.” After throwing a glance at Cas, he says quietly, “I’ve tried to learn how much he remembers. He knows who he is, and he definitely knows us — he asked after you five times before you came. But other than that...”

“Same with Crowley. He’s a bit more articulate, but I think that has to do with him being a know-it-all rather than having more memories of what happened.”

“I doubt a child would be able to process anything like that anyway,” Sam supplies. “They’d both be catatonic.”

Dean nods.

An hour later, he’s colouring with Cas, trying to pretend this is normal, when Crowley comes into the kitchen. Even as a little boy, he’s remarkably self-sufficient. And still so quiet. Dean doesn’t even notice until Cas says, “Hewwo Crowey.”

“Hi Cas.”

He gets up immediately. “Hey, you have a good nap?”

Crowley nods, still eerily noiseless. Dean sighs. “Do you want a sandwich too?”

Another nod.

Sam comes across them, Crowley digging into his sandwich, Cas still colouring, Dean wondering what he’s supposed to do now. “Dude” he whispers, “This might be the craziest thing that’s ever happened to us, and that’s saying something.”

“I know” Dean answers, “But what are we supposed to do? We can’t just let someone else take them.”

Sam looks like he wants to argue, but eventually just sighs. “Thank God you’re good with children.”

That may be true, but it still doesn’t help him to solve the enigma of just exactly how much Cas and Crowley remember.

After a few days of watching them and... playing with them (dear God, Sam is right, this is the weirdest thing he’s ever done) he comes to a few conclusions.

One night when they’re in bed (he expected Crowley would be a nightmare when it came to bedtime, but it’s actually Cas who tries to argue he doesn’t need to sleep every night until he conks out) he says, “Alright, so I’ve made a few observations.”

Sam, who’s been more concerned with research these past few days, asks, “What kind of—”

“What they know. Or at least, what they’re like. Cas was human for a short time, but he was never a kid, alright? So basically all he knows is we’re his friends and we’re looking after him. But Crowley — even though he’s younger, he’s a bit more aware. I think because he once was a child, way back when. And then there’s...” he trailed off, unsure of how to proceed.

“What is it?”

“Cas, he was a bit unsure whether we wanted him here at first... two days or so. But I’ve explained it to him often enough now, I think. At least he seems happy, from what I can tell. Crowley... he still expects us to throw him out, in a way. As much as a three-year-old can think about it, of course — they don’t exactly have the longest attention span.”

“Dean, you sound like their concerned parent. And Crowley—”

“What else am I supposed to deal with right now? Plus, come on, he stabbed himself in the gut for us. I’d say he’s entitled to be treated well. Especially as a little boy.”

Sam looks sceptical, but acquiesces.

Later that week, he begins spending time with the two as well, and at first Dean thinks things are going well. But then, one day, he hears Sam exclaim “Fergus!” in a rather shrill voice and next thing he knows, Crowley comes barrelling out of the room, tears in his eyes. All Dean can do is sweep him up before he can run past.

“Hey, what happened?”

But Crowley is just crying quietly again. Dean sighs and returns to the room.

“Sam, what happened?”

His brother runs his hands through his hair. “He took Cas’ pencil away. I just thought if I got a little loud—”

“No, Sam, you are not going to do that, capiche?”

“Why not? I thought we could use the opportunity to teach him – “

Oh God, Dean realizes, Sam is treating Cas and Crowley differently. That’s about the worst thing you can do while raising (watching until they’re big again, whatever) two kids in close proximity. Dean should know.

He puts Crowley back in his chair. “Crowley,” he says slowly, “You do realize you weren’t supposed to take Cas’ pencil, right?”

He nods, no longer crying. “I just wanted to correct the ang- the ang- the line he was drawing.”

Huh. Already trying to say angle. Dean knew he was a smart kid.

“How about next time you ask Cas about it?” he offers and Crowley looks at him like he’s never been talked to this way before. Fair – he probably hasn’t.

“Look, are you two big enough that I can leave you alone for a few minutes?”

“O’ course De,” Cas replies and Crowley nods.

He drags Sam out of the room. “You can’t treat them differently.”

“What? He was the King of Hell, Dean. I am just trying to teach him manners.”

“Look, was is the operative word here. And take it from me, when a child reacts in this way to you saying their name, there’s a history behind it. Remember Rowena. Can’t imagine she ever qualified for Mother of the year.”

Sam winces. “You really think he remembers some of that?”

“Subconsciously, at least. Let’s hope he doesn’t remember Hell while he’s that little.” He shudders at the thought of those memories in a small kid’s body.

Sam nods. “I’ll try my best.”

To his credit, he really does. A few days later, Dean comes into the war room and finds Sam busy trying to teach Cas and Crowley the letters of the alphabet.

“Don’t you think they’re a little too young to – “

“No, De, I can read!” Cas exclaims delightedly. Crowley, meanwhile is busy spelling out...

“Sam, why did Crowley just read the word “Croatoan” to me?”

“We don’t have any kids’ books!”

Dean sighs and soldiers on.

Eventually, they start going on hunts again, staying behind in turns to take care of the kids. Both Cas and Crowley seem rather content at this point, although the former demon still looks suspicious now and then, as if they’re playing a giant prank and any moment now someone will cry “Surprise!” and just throw a three-year-old into the system.

Dean’s also constantly picking up on the differences between them.

Cas is a stubborn kid. Doesn’t want to go to sleep, doesn’t want to eat certain things, doesn’t want to go out some days even though he’s small boy who needs sunlight. It all blows over within minutes though.

Crowley on the other hand has developed a decidedly mischievous streak. One day at the park he suddenly comes running to Dean and points at a tree. “Found you!”

And yes, that’s a Squirrel running up the bark.

Dean would be annoyed if he wasn’t relieved. For whatever reason.

Thing is, Dean gets cabin fever rather easily, so he and the boys spend a lot of time outdoors. Then one day, he has the idea to visit Jody because she has a house that’s actually above ground and he hasn’t seen her in a while, and—

Point is, it’s not his brightest idea, because some demon sends hellhounds after Crowley.

Thankfully, with Jody and Donna there, they don’t even come close to the children, but afterwards Crowley is still shaken. “The monster came for me.”

Of course. For a kid, anything bad is a monster.

Donna is having none of it. “Now, now,” she says, pulling him on her lap, “Aunt Donna is an expert on monsters. She won’t let anyone get to you, promise.”

Aunt Donna? Dear God.

At least Crowley looks mollified when she offers him a donut. Dean allows it, even though he should be eating healthy.

Before he and Sam know it, they’ve been taking care of them for half a year, and they have yet to find a solution.

They are called in on a case. Other hunters stumbled across a small city right in the middle of nowhere that has quite literally been going to Hell for months. The river is drying out, weather’s awful, the murder rate has skyrocketed; Looks like demons took the wheel.

They can’t take the boys, of course. They leave them in Alex’s care, in a motel not far from the town. Of course they’d rather leave them in the bunker, but it wouldn’t work. Cas and Crowley freak out when both brothers leave the place without them, but are fine when they’re somewhere else (kid logic, Dean assumes).

Once they’ve snuck into town, it’s pretty clear the demons must keep control by using magic. The inhabitants are starry-eyed and confused and don’t answer questions. Thankfully, the demons seem to have read a bit too much Lovecraft, according to Sam (thank you, no creepy alien monsters for Dean. He’d take Poe any day), and have erected something like a “church” in the middle of the city where they keep “The Artifact” as one guy mumbles when Jody presses him for ten minutes.

They obviously didn’t expect newcomers (seriously, Crowley was right, demons are so freaking stupid) and they manage to destroy the thing that looks like one of the angel or demon tablets without anyone noticing. The wave of magic that follows knocks them around a bit, but otherwise they are fine.

At least they think so until all demons in town decide to attack.

Dean’s already made his peace (maybe that’s a bad description, it’s more like the thought “Wonder if anyone’ll bring me back this time) when reinforcements arrive.

The demon who’s about to tear his throat out gets stabbed in the back and then Dean is looking at—

“Squirrel. Long time, no see.”

“Crowley!?” he asks, looking around, and sure enough, there’s Cas helping out Sam and the others.

“I’ll explain later.”

Once they’re all safe, it turns out the wave of magic they felt did the trick. It lasted long enough to reach the motel.

“Alex was a bit shaken, but she’s alright,” Cas informs Jody.

“And you’re both human?”

“Feel free to test us.”

Crowley looks... different. They both do. Cas’ stoic demeanour as an angel is gone along with the malevolent streak in Crowley’s eyes.

“Don’t think that’ll be necessary.”

Later that night, on the way back to the bunker, Crowley says, “Considering we might be staying longer, we should probably throw the stuffed animals out of our room.”

There’s just a hint of worry in his voice, and Dean remembers a little boy crying and telling him, “You’ll give me away.”

“Yeah, we better. Don’t think they’ll look good next to angel blades or Craig bottles,” he agrees immediately.

In the rear-view mirror, he sees Crowley’s smile.


End file.
